Tornado
by Crowlows19
Summary: When Steve needed a cure, Darren chose to fight rather than bargain. That single decision changed everything and opened up a flood of chaos from their world and beyond. AU.
1. Dry Lightning

Darren could feel his heart beating solidly in his chest and it was the only thing reminding him that he was still alive. The air had rushed from his lungs and his legs felt like jello. His eyes were exhausted but he refused to allow himself to go to bed. Because Steve was dying.

He was dying and Darren was the only one who could do something about it. So the teen zipped up his coat, pulled the hood up, and went out his bedroom window as quietly as any vampire.

That Crepsley guy _must_ have a cure. No one kept a spider that dangerous around unless he had some anti-venom on hand in case of accidents. It made common sense but Darren still wasn't sure. He crept through the town, trying to avoid the main roads in order to stay away from the police.

Finally, he found himself in front of the old theatre but he didn't dare go in. Crepsley would most likely kill him the second he stepped inside so he waited until the first light of dawn before he went through the door. It was clear that the Cirque had moved on. Darren wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing but regardless it left the entire place feeling empty and old. Everything creaked. And dust drifted down from the ceiling.

It felt haunted. Or maybe that was just him.

He crept slowly and determinedly down the stairs to the basement to where he had last seen Crepsley's stuff. Luckily, the man was still there even though he'd already taken back his spider. He could see the cage in the corner on a rickety looking table. And next to that was a small box. Darren opened it immediately and began rooting around. There were many clear bottles with different kinds of liquid inside of them. None of them had any labels so he shut the box and grabbed the entire thing.

But he didn't leave the room just yet. There was a good chance that Crepsley had removed the anti-venom in case Darren came back. What would he do if he was Crepsley? He'd keep the anti-venom on him until he left town. Darren glared at the closed coffin and went back upstairs and outside to make a phone call.

00000

Alan had been a little confused as to why Darren was asking for his mother's taser but he responded to his friend's SOS anyway. He grabbed his bike, the taser stuffed into his back pocket, and pedaled to the abandoned theatre as quickly as he could. His friend was standing outside, hands stuffed into a black Dickie's coat, and looking at the pink sky.

"Hey," Alan said, braking hard.

"Hey."

"How's Stevie?" he asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose. Darren looked exhausted.

"Dying," Darren told him coldly.

"Are you going to do something about it?" Alan asked. Steve had told both Alan and Tommy about the spider Darren had lifted from some crazy homeless man. Now Alan was wondering what Darren was going to do about the exotic, deadly, and _missing_ spider.

"Yes," the other boy mumbled. "Taser?"

"Here." Alan snatched it from his pocket and slapped it into Darren's hand firmly. Darren eyed it as if he really didn't want to do whatever it was he was about to do but he was going through with it anyway.

"Thanks," Darren said. "You should go home Alan."

"Okay," Alan said. He'd been friends with Darren too long to bother arguing with him about police and being safe. He just picked up his bike again and prepared to ride back home before his mom woke up and he got in trouble.

"And Alan," Darren said causing him to turn his head towards the other boy. "If you don't hear from me by tomorrow will you send the cops here?"

"Okay," Alan promised, then hopped on his bike and left. Darren was up to something. Probably something really bad. Definitely something illegal. Alan didn't want to be a part of it.

00000

Darren made his way back to where Crepsley was sleeping about as quietly as he had the first time. He'd hidden the box in the bushes out back in case he had to abandon the mission and run. He would be able to circle back later and retrieve it under the safety of the sun.

He took a deep, calming breath that didn't actually do anything and opened the coffin lid before he could chicken out. Crepsley was sleeping, his mouth slightly open, and his hands in loose fists. At least, Darren thought he was sleeping. He didn't give the man the time to realize that something was wrong. He simply opened the coffin lid and stabbed the man's chest with the taser, sending 7 million volts of electricity through the vampire.

Crepsley screamed and jerked so violently that he tipped the coffin off its stand and sent both himself and his creepy bed to the hard concrete floor. Darren jumped out of the way in time to avoid being flattened by both vampire and coffin. Crepsley lay on the floor, his legs pinned, and tried to pull himself back together. He would recover much quicker than a human would, but hopefully it would give Darren enough time.

"Where is the cure?" he snarled, anger bubbling to the forefront of his exhausted and still stunned brain. If he was ever going to hate someone it would be this man.

"What?" Crepsley gasped from the floor still very much in pain.

Darren let rage pour through him and stepped forward. He pressed the taser to the man's arm and sent another round of voltage through him. He only had one, maybe two, shocks left before it died. It would have to be enough.

Crepsley screwed up his face in pain but didn't cry out.

"Anti-venom! Now!" Darren screamed.

"Are you insane?" Crepsley snapped. "What the hell are you doing?"

"That stupid spider bit Steve! How do I save him?" Darren wasn't sure what he looked like but he was sure it was somewhere close to deranged. Because Crepsley didn't seem to want deal with him anymore. He just wanted him to go away.

"Here," he said and slowly reached back into the cloak and pulled out a vial. "Get this into his bloodstream and he will be just fine." The vampire sounded calm but it wasn't a real calm. It was the type of calm someone had when they were talking someone off of a cliff. Darren reached out wondering if Crepsley was going to try something and snatched the vial out of his cold hands.

The second his fingers closed securely around the glass he ran. He ran faster than he ever had before and he didn't feel safe until after he'd managed to sneak into Steve's room with a hypodermic needle and emptied the vial into his friend's IV.

Despite not having slept the night before Darren couldn't even contemplate closing his eyes when he laid in bed that night. He was terrified that Crepsley was going to come through the window, even though it was locked, and kill him. He wondered if this was the stuff phobias were made of.

00000

A week later Darren still wasn't sleeping well and he hadn't worked up the courage to go back to the theatre and pick up the abandoned box. He wasn't sure if Crepsley had moved on and he couldn't bring himself to ask someone else to check. Steve had left the hospital and was due back at school any day now but Darren hadn't managed to see him either. They had talked on the phone but Darren hadn't told him anything substantial. It was probably better if Steve believed that it was the doctors that saved him.

Everything in town seemed to be going smoothly despite the fact that Darren was slowly falling to pieces. Eventually he would just have to go back. He picked a particularly sunny afternoon to go by the theatre and see what was what. The place felt as haunted as ever but Darren knew the quiet was deceiving.

He slowly made his way down the concrete steps but stopped when he heard voices. He didn't dare go closer and he didn't dare retreat either. He even tried to hold his breath but the resulting gasp was s a little loud so he settled on breathing normally.

"I still don't see _why_ you won't just leave with me," said a voice Darren didn't know.

"Because Gavner I am not done here."

"What could you possibly have to still do? The Cirque left weeks ago."

"It was not weeks ago and I told you-"

"You aren't done here."

"If you must know," Crepsley said, "I am still here because I am looking for something I lost."

"Lost?" Gavner asked incredulously. "Since when do you lose things?"

There was a very peculiar silence and Darren wondered if Crepsley was going to answer.

"Unless it's not lost but stolen." Gavner sounded as if he was trying his best not to laugh very hard and very loudly. Darren didn't know what they were talking about. Crepsley already had Octa. He should have already left town. Unless this was all about the box still hidden in the bushes outside.

"Gavner," Crepsley started, a bit of warning in his tone but Darren didn't hear anything after that. He was grabbed roughly from behind and pushed forward so forcefully that he fell down the rest of the stairs and rolled right into the room. Once he had shaken the dizziness from his head he slowly, cautiously, looked up.

"This one belong to you?" The voice came from behind him and Darren whirled around to see a rather tough looking woman in the doorway. Her clothes were too big and she probably hadn't bathed in a long while. Her hair was black and pulled into a ponytail.

He also managed to get a look at the person Crepsley had been talking to. Gavner was a little stocky with brown hair and a lot of scars. Darren believed in that moment that it had been a mistake to come here.

"No Arra," Crepsley said. "He does not."

"Then who is he?" Gavner asked. Crepsley didn't answer for a long moment and it occurred to Darren that he might be embarrassed about what had happened a week ago. Darren didn't blame him. He didn't like to be laughed at either.

"Come to steal something else?" Crepsley asked Darren, ignoring the other two. He didn't sound angry or curious or anything really. He might even be stalling. Darren shook his head.

"No," he said. "Just wanted to see if you were gone."

"Why?" Crepsley pressed. Darren didn't answer. He couldn't think of anything to say so he just sat on the floor trying to seem small. Maybe they'd take pity?

"Where is my box?"

"What box?" Darren asked, instinctively playing dumb. Crepsley's eyes narrowed. Darren couldn't see Arra but Gavner looked as if he was going to start laughing. In fact, he looked downright amused.

"Larten, did the kid steal your box?" he asked teasingly but Crepsley didn't bother to answer. He looked sharply at him. Darren felt Arra grab his shoulder and roughly pulled him from the floor to stand on his feet.

"Did you take it?" she snarled, spinning him around to face her head on.

"What's it to you?" he snarled back, instantly regretting it. This probably wasn't a person to tempt.

"I don't like thieves," she hissed and punched him in the gut. It hurt. He had been punched before but never that hard. He doubled over, his knees buckled, and his eyes watered but he was able to hold back a scream. Alan's taser was still in his jacket pocket, now fully charged, but Arra wasn't close enough. She'd see it coming a mile away.

"Arra!" Crepsley said loudly.

"What? Do you want the box back or not?" she replied, unconcerned about the fact that Darren was both human and a child. She could easily kill him.

"Do not kill him." Crepsley's command didn't comfort Darren all that much. There was so much that could be done to him that wouldn't kill him.

He had to get out of there. If he could just make it to the front door he'd be able to step into the sun and lose them. After that, he had no idea what to do. It was only a few hours until sundown which meant that if he managed to get out of the theatre he would only be safe for a short while. But first: escape.

He sucked in a few deep mouthfuls of air and managed to pull himself to his feet. He stumbled towards the wall and used it to prop himself up. Angling his body away from the vampires he slid his hand into his coat pocket, brought out the taser, and held it close to him, finger on the trigger.

"Well, at least he isn't weak," Arra said a bit snidely. Darren counted her approaching footsteps. After four he whipped around and jammed the taser into her thigh sending the electricity through her. She screamed and fell, twitching on the floor. Darren didn't stick around after that and ran full pelt towards the stairs.

He heard pounding feet on the stairs behind him and whipped around to meet the chasing vampire head on. Gavner managed to tackle him without being hit by the taser. The vampire ripped it from his hand and threw it against the wall so hard that it shattered. He wondered how he would explain that to Alan.

"Let me go!" Darren shouted as Gavner frog marched him back to the room by his neck.

"I don't think so," the man said and pushed him forward. Darren stumbled but kept his feet under him. But he wasn't left alone for long. Crepsley grabbed him by his coat and pinned him to the wall. His twisted face inches from Darren's own. His breath stunk and Darren could see the man's scar much too clearly for his comfort.

"I really do hate that taser," he snarled. Darren's eyes darted around. Arra was still on the ground but she had managed to sit up. She looked incredibly angry.

"I don't," Darren told him. Crepsley eyed him. It was an assessing sort of look that Darren didn't much like. The vampire took his hands off the coat and placed them casually on the wall by Darren's head. Darren was still pinned to the spot just not physically.

"I want my box back Darren," Crepsley said slowly and quietly. "And I am not leaving without it."

"Then I guess you aren't leaving."

Crepsley slammed his fist into the concrete by his left ear so quickly that Darren hadn't seen the man even move his hand. But he felt the wall crack and he felt the dust on his face. He flinched away violently but Crepsley's other hand hadn't moved so he didn't have far to go.

"I can not tell if you are incredibly brave or just tremendously stupid," the vampire said. Darren didn't answer and he was too scared to look at the vampire. "If I do not have my box, _soon_, you will pay dearly."

"Define soon," Darren said. It came out as a demand and he knew it was a bad idea but Crepsley didn't react.

"Tomorrow night," the vampire responded and his hands lifted as he stepped away. Crepsley pointed towards the door. "Leave."

Darren didn't need to be told twice. He took off and was outside in no time at all. The afternoon sun on his face felt great. He went to the bushes, grabbed the box, and then left as quickly as he could.

He didn't dare take the box to his house so he went to Steve's. His mom wasn't home so the two boys spent the rest of the night in the living room. Darren told Steve everything from the time Madam Octa had bitten him to ringing Steve's doorbell. His friend didn't say much but he didn't seem overly impressed with Darren either.

"You're an idiot," Steve said. "There's only so much you can do to this guy before he decides you're better off dead. Then he'll probably eat you."

"I know," Darren mumbled. "What should I do?"

"Can I see the box?" Steve asked. Darren handed it to him. It wasn't anything special. A simple box: four small pieces of wood and a hinge. The wood wasn't even stained. Darren had made something similar in shop class once. Steve investigated it thoroughly. He took out each and every vial and examined those as well.

"Who is Gavner?" he asked suddenly and Darren started. He hadn't told Steve the names of the two other vampires. He didn't think Steve needed to know.

"What?"

Steve held up the empty box and Darren could see a small etching in the bottom. _From Gavner_. It was crude writing as if from a child. Was that why Crepsley wanted the box so bad? Sentiment? Darren hadn't thought him the type.

"Who's Gavner?" Steve asked again.

"He was in the room with Crepsley," Darren said. "Maybe they're family?"

"If they are you can use that," Steve told him but Darren just looked at him. "Use it against him."

"There's no reason for that Steve," Darren snapped. "I'll just give him his box back and he'll leave."

"Or you'll give him the box back and he'll kill you."

Darren hadn't considered that. He should have, of course. The thought filled him with dread. Crepsley would definitely have it in him to kill him once he got what he wanted.

"What are these vials?" Steve asked, distracting Darren from his morbid realization.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Potions maybe. Alcohol. Who cares?"

"They're probably worth something."

"To who? Professor Snape?" Darren snapped. "Just put them back."

"No," Steve insisted, "we should use these as leverage."

"That's stupid."

"Darren, this guy is going to kill you," Steve snapped. There was something dark in his eyes that Darren had never seen before and it worried him a little. Steve was probably still mad at Crepsley for refusing to blood him. They hadn't talked about it even though Steve knew Darren had been there. "We have to get him out of the way."

"You want to hunt a vampire?" Darren asked jokingly but Steve didn't smile. He reached over the side arm of the couch and opened the drawer to the end table. His hand shuffled about and then he placed a gun on the coffee table between them. Darren didn't know how to respond. How had Steve even gotten a gun?

"That's exactly what we're going to do," Steve said. "You should call Tommy and Alan. We're going to need some help."

00000

Alan had been a little angry at the fact that Darren had broken his mother's taser. He would now have to find a way to wiggle out of trouble. Tommy was annoyed that the only thing Alan cared about was the taser and not the vampire. The two of them hadn't questioned Steve and Darren on their claim of an actual vampire camping out in the theatre. They were those kind of friends.

Their plan to take care of Crepsley and his two friends was perhaps a little ambitious but Darren couldn't think of anything better. He didn't want to give Crepsley the opportunity to come back later once he started regretting the decision not to kill the kid who caused all that trouble.

So there he was, standing outside the theatre in the setting sun with the stolen box clutched to his chest. He waited until almost dark and then set the box down on the steps and ran across the street to where Tommy was waiting in his Dad's car. Tommy was two years away from driving legally but that didn't seem to matter to him much. Or to his parents even.

Darren got into the front seat. The two friends watched idly as Gavner came out of the theatre and picked up the box. He went back inside without opening it. Tommy grabbed the two-way radio in the cup holder and pressed down the talk button.

"They took the box inside," he said.

"Good," Steve replied immediately.

A few minutes later the door burst open and Crepsley stood there in a rage. He'd discovered that the box had been emptied. Darren grabbed the root beer bottle by his feet and lit the rag dangling out of the top with a BIC lighter. Tommy started the car, the roar of the engine and the headlights coming to life caught Crepsley's attention instantly. The car whipped onto the road and Darren threw the bottle out of the window as hard as he could. It landed at the side of stairs where the dry weeds instantly went up into flames. Crepsley ran back inside to warn his two friends that the building was on fire.

By the time the car reached the end of the block, the flames were creeping up the wall. Darren took the radio.

"Call the fire department," he said. "It worked."

"Got it," Alan said.

As they travelled out of town, they were passed by two firetrucks and an ambulance going to the other way, sirens screaming, and lights flashing.

"Darren," Tommy said.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure this is the way to go?" he asked. Darren gave him a hard look. He knew his friend wasn't talking about the direction they were driving in but a different kind of direction entirely.

"Little late to be asking that question, isn't it?"

"I know," Tommy said and didn't say anything else until they reached a children's park at the very edge of town. The only redeeming quality about this park was the paintball field in the northern pasture. It wasn't officially for paintball but that's what people used it for. There was even a blind in one tree that they had set up in for the night.

Steve and Alan were both inside. Alan had two laptops open on a couple of overturned crates they used as a table. Steve was in a chair, night vision binoculars pressed to his eyes as he scanned the trees.

"How long to do you think?" Darren asked quietly gazing out into the dark field.

"I'm in the system," Alan told him, typing away. Alan was the hacker of the town. There wasn't a system he hadn't managed to get into yet. But ever since the FBI had shown up one morning he was usually very careful about which systems he actually used. "You guys changed all the lights right?"

"Duh," Steve said. "Cost an arm and a leg too."

"Where'd you get the money?" Tommy asked.

"I've been stealing from my mother for years," Steve said lightly. "You'd be surprised by what I have stashed away." Tommy gave a half-hearted chuckle but Alan and Darren couldn't quite work themselves up to it. It didn't seem right.

"Fire department is reporting that the fire is under control. There appeared to be signs of someone living inside but they can't find anyone," Alan blurted after several minutes of silence, one hand pressing to the ear bud running from his left ear to the computer.

"Perfect," Steve said, looking pleased. He stood and handed the binoculars to Tommy. "Let's go." He and Darren climbed back down from the blind and went to the exact middle of the field. The town had put up field lighting years ago in anticipation of sanctioned night time matches, usually with churches. But they were off for now.

Steve held his gun loosely in his hands and Darren was clutching a small bag filled with Crepsley's vials. It didn't take the vampire and his friends long to figure out where they were. They had purposely not even tried to cover their tracks. Steve said they would do it wrong so it was pointless to try, plus the whole idea was to get Crepsley in the open.

However, Darren was having doubts about this plan. There wasn't really a way for it to end well for them. He was quite certain that Steve hadn't planned for anything past shooting Crepsley in the head. He wondered if there was a way to back out.

When the vampires came into view they didn't appear to be very happy. However, it wasn't until they were standing directly in front of them that Darren could see their actual expressions. Arra looked murderous; Gavner, no longer humorous, looked stoic and a bit blank; Crepsley looked frustrated. Darren had never seen Crepsley look frustrated and he was curious as to why the man wasn't angry instead. If the roles had been reversed Darren would probably be looking more like Arra.

"That was very cute," Crepsley said with a strange calm. "But I am failing to see the point."

"Really?" Steve asked sarcastically. "I think the point is a bit obvious."

"Hardly," Gavner responded. Either Arra was past speaking or she just didn't care. Her eyes were trained on Steve's hands. She probably suspected their motives.

"Well, then we'll spell it out. We take everything and you, well, die." Gavner laughed and Ara snarled taking a step forward as if to grab him. Steve fired the gun without ever moving it away from his body. The bullet slammed into the ground stopping Arra cold and allowing him the time to bring it up and aim. The sound of the gunshot echoed loudly through the field and Darren was starting to regret this. Arra stepped back and Crepsley's mouth pulled into a hard line. Darren felt like peeing. Apparently, he had a nervous bladder.

"That seems like a half-thought out plan," Crepsley told him. Everyone was ignoring Darren and he was sort of okay with that. He even managed to put a good foot of space between him Steve. "We have no quarrel with any of you. I just want what belongs to me." Steve perked an eyebrow. Darren had seen this type of expression before. It was the look he got when he had decided to be fair. It usually meant someone was going to get their head slammed in a locker. He wondered what that look would mean here.

Steve opened his mouth, probably to say something, but Crepsley interrupted him. He moved so fast that Darren wasn't sure if he even _had_ moved but instead simply teleported on top of Steve. Crepsley pinned him to the ground and the gun went flying away into the tall grass by some tires. Darren didn't even get the chance to cry out in concern before Arra was on top of him, knees pressing painfully into his shoulders as she tore the bag from his grasp.

Then the lights came on.

It didn't have an immediate effect but only took a half minute or so before Arra started to look uncomfortable. Another minute and Arra was starting to turn pink. By the third minute she was in pain and then there was screaming. It was hers. Her skin started to turn red. Darren pushed her off easily. Steve managed to do the same to Crepsley and Gavner was trying to crawl his way off the field and out of the light.

Arra ran slamming into a tree when she reached the edge. Gavner stumbled after.

Crepsley was attempting to get his feet under him but Steve simply kicked him back down.

"UV lights," Steve said. "Rigged to have three times the amount of the UV of the sun. Perfect for vampire hunting."

He kicked Crepsley again. Darren sat in the dirt, on his knees wondering what Steve was planning on doing. He watched his friend walk away from the vampire, calm as could be and find his gun. Crepsley looked in pain. His skin was starting to burn. Part of it was even starting to bubble.

The vampire caught Darren's eye. There were tears in his eyes and he would not look away. Darren felt something as he watched the man's skin start to burn off.

"Let's go Steve!" he shouted as he leapt to his feet and started towards his friend.

"One last thing," Steve replied. He held the gun loosely and confidently. And then he shot Crepsley in the leg. Crepsley screamed.

"Larten!" Arra screamed from the side, but there was nothing either of them could do. This wasn't what Darren had envisioned in his head. He had just wanted Crepsley to leave town. But Steve wanted revenge and he wanted it to be slow.

"Steve stop!" Darren shouted and this time Steve actually looked at him.

"Stop what?" he asked. "Stop killing the monster that wanted to kill my best friend."

"We have to go!" Darren pleaded.

"I'm not done yet," Steve snarled and shot Crepsley in the shoulder. The vampire screamed again. He wasn't going to last much longer. Darren made a split second decision and ran towards Steve, flying off the ground and tackling him to the ground. He punched the boy hard in the face, once, twice, and once more unil Steve lay limp. He grabbed at Steve's coat and pulled out the radio.

"Turn off the lights!" he shouted.

"Are you insane?" Tommy shouted back. "Kill him!"

"Turn off the lights!"

The lights went off a split second later and he breathed a small sigh of relief. Until he heard footsteps. He grabbed the gun from Steve's limp fingers and brought it up to meet the fast approaching Gavner and Arra. They halted at Crepsley's side and eyed him. Darren looked down. Crepsley was either unconscious or dead but Darren couldn't tell.

"Leave," he told them. They stared at him a little blankly. "Go!"

Gavner grabbed Crepsley and threw him over one shoulder. And then they were gone.

00000

Darren was pretty sure that he had lost all of his friends. Steve was back in school but he refused to talk him and Tommy was just plain ignoring him. Alan spared him a sad smile or two but Alan had always been a bit anti-social so Darren didn't much notice a change there.

He had gone back to the theatre but it was condemned now that half of it had been burned to a smouldering block of gray ash. Although, he was certain that the vampires had fled town. And even if he did come across one of them they would probably snap his neck before he get out the word, "Sorry".

But there wasn't much else he could do. He felt as if he really needed to talk to Crepsley. Darren still had the vials and for some reason it was pressing on his mind. He should try to give them back. He even called a few hospitals to see if anyone had come in with burns and gunshot wounds. The people on the other end had seemed a little concerned about the nature of his questions but they answered nonetheless. Crepsley wasn't anywhere and he really hadn't expected him to be.

So with that information, Darren spent the next few weeks holed up in his room searching every square centimeter of the county maps on his computer. If he was a mortally wounded vampire, where would he hide?

There were a few places. Abandoned buildings and such but nothing turned up. In between riding his bike to old farms and empty office buildings, Darren researched vampires. Steve had been doing this type of research for years and if he was going to find Crepsley first he was going to have to cram everything Steve knew into his own over exhausted brain. And once it seemed pointless he finally found them.

Some of the older, and perhaps wackier, legends he had dug up seemed to be determined to share one thing in common. Cemeteries. There was legend after legend of vampires rising from the grave at night and returning to the graves before dawn. Perhaps some vampires liked to camp in cemeteries?

The thought was creepy but fitting. So he started to look at cemeteries; particularly those that were less popular and had crypts. Crepsley would likely need a space in order to heal. He finally found Rucker's Cemetery. A place where the town's founders and their families were buried but had not been used since 1902. It had the minimal of care and Darren remembered that it was popular spot on Halloween. He had never been there though. It was only his first year of high school and freshmen were never invited to Rucker's.

"Where are you going?" Annie asked from the doorway just as Darren zipped up his backpack.

"Out," he said. "Will you be okay for a few hours?"

Their parents were out of town for a week or so trying to help some relative he'd never met with a dying husband or brother or something. Darren hadn't cared to listen when his mother had explained.

"I guess," Annie replied. "You know its illegal to leave an eight-year-old at home by herself."

"Oh is it?" Darren questioned playfully. Annie wasn't like most little girls. She was fiercely independent and she was unconcerned with such things as dolls and tea parties. She liked to play war games and had demanded to be put in archery classes over ballet. Their mother had been a little disappointed that Annie wouldn't ever follow in her footsteps but she loved her and so put up with it.

"Yes, it is," the girl smirked. "I may just have to report you to the proper parental authorities."

"Even if I bring back oatmeal cakes?" he asked, knowing she'd give on that. They were her favorite.

She looked at him critically as if thinking it over. Darren wasn't sure what she would be when she grew up. A general or a lawyer seemed a good fit, but Annie had always been one to surprise.

"Deal!" she said brightly. "Can I borrow some of your movies?"

"Nothing over PG-13," he said. "No nightmares tonight."

"That only happened once," she snapped and slapped the hand he ran through her hair. He laughed and left her in the house by herself, making sure everything was locked and the stove and stuff were off. Nobody had used them since yesterday when his parents had left but he wanted to make sure.

Riding his bike through the darkening street didn't fill him with the unease he thought it would. His pack was a little heavy with everything he'd stuffed in there but he ignored it. Rucker's wasn't far from his home. It was actually surrounded by golf courses and tri-levels. The city had grown up around the old bone yard and they had let the trees grow wild around it so they wouldn't have to look at tombstones and crypts as they putted on the 16th green.

Finding it was easy. The problem was that once he went inside, no one would see or hear anything if he got in trouble. Again. This was probably the worst idea he'd ever had. But he had ruined several lifelong friendships for this man. He might as well see the fruit of his work and make sure it hadn't been for nothing.

He walked along the rows towards the back where the crypts were. He had family members here. His mother's family, the Reynolds, had been a founding family of the town. He didn't know much about them other than their family crypt was here, same as all the other founding families. His father's family had come from Ireland during the potato famine. They'd all been poor and never did anything more remarkable than survive.

There were four crypts in the back: one for each family and it didn't take a genius to figure out which one they had holed up in. The flickering of candle light through the open door was a dead giveaway. He marched up to the crypt before he could lose his nerve and looked inside.

Crepsley was on the floor using a single blanket and some coats as bedding. He looked terrible but not as terrible as he had. Gavner was staring directly at Darren. He had probably heard him coming from a mile away. Arra was giving him a blank look. But there was another man there. He was old and dressed almost exactly like Crepsley usually did. He looked up as well.

"Hello," the old man said. "Who are you?"

"I'm Darren," he replied. He didn't dare take a step inside the crypt.

"Come in Darren," the man told him.

"No," Gavner snapped the second Darren's foot started to come off the ground. He froze. "He's the reason Larten is like this in the first place."

"Gavner," Crepsley broke in, his voice broken and hoarse. "It is alright."

"No, it's not," Gavner snapped.

"Gavner," the old man said harshly his voice powerful. Gavner immediately fell quiet. "Let us go wait outside; I believe we could all use a little fresh air." The other two followed the stranger without comment, brushing past Darren without a word. He went inside and watched as Crepsley sat up, leaning against the cool wall of someone's final resting place. He noted with some morose amusement that they had chosen Darren's family's crypt.

Darren took his pack off but didn't set it down. He clutched it to his chest. Crepsley looked at him expectantly.

"Um," he finally said after a few false starts. "Who's the old guy?"

"Seba," Crepsley said, amused. "He was my mentor."

"Oh," Darren said, not entirely sure what that meant. "I've been looking for you."

"Have you now?" Darren was certain he was being laughed at but he couldn't bring himself to feel mad. So he just nodded.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "I'm sorry. About what happened on the field. I didn't know Steve was going to do that. He said he was only going to make sure you went away."

"If you are so averse to being near me, then why did you seek me out?" Crepsley asked. His eyes were hard and Darren knew that if there was ever a time to be honest with Crepsley, this was it.

"Because this was my fault," he said. "I brought you something!" Crepsley watched him as he dug around in his pack. He finally found the thing he was looking for and held out two cans proudly.

"What is that?" the vampire asked.

"Chicken noodle soup," Darren replied enthusiastically. "This stuff makes everything feel better!"

"Thank you," Crepsley said but he sounded as if he was just trying to be polite. He probably thought Darren was insane.

"You're welcome," Darren replied, taking it for what it was. "I also brought your stuff. I still have all your vials."

"Thank you," Crepsley said and this time he sounded relieved. Darren passed them to him one by one and the vampire examined each carefully. He probably wanted to make sure everything was still there. "I would put them away but their proper box was lost in an unfortunate fire."

Darren blushed straight to the tip of his ears.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Did Gavner make that for you?"

"Yes," Crepsley said shortly, eyeing him in a way he hadn't before.

"Is he your son?"

"No."

Crepsley said it with such finality that Darren didn't press. But he did pull out a hand woven blanket his mother had made with yarn. It was simultaneously the itchiest and warmest blanket Darren had ever had. He handed it to the vampire and even pulled out a pillow from the bottom of his backpack.

The man looked grateful and arranged himself into a more comfortable position.

"You must be feeling very guilty," Crepsley said. Darren couldn't bring himself to smile, even a little. Crepsley was still burned, his skin was no longer that horrid red it had been but it was still scabbed and it looked painful. But he was healing fast. With some luck he wouldn't scar too badly, maybe just a patch here and there. "Why did you come here, Darren? Truly?"

"Steve isn't going to give up on killing you," Darren said, the words pouring from his mouth faster than he could truly think about them and then filter them. "He's targeted you and he's furious that I got in the way. You have to leave town the second you can and never come back."

"Steve is just a boy," Crepsley replied.

"He's already done this," Darren replied gesturing the injuries on the vampire. "Trust me when I tell you that the last place you want to be is here."

"And what about you? What is your friend going to do to you?"

"He'll start with my reputation and then he'll try to make me destroy myself. Steve plays games and he can be cruel."

"Why did you want to save this boy at all?" Crepsley asked.

"Because he was my friend," Darren responded without hesitation.

"You need better friends."

"Probably," he said, not offended in the least. "It doesn't really matter now. I can handle Steve."

"You can?" Crepsley asked and he sounded as if he was teasing Darren a little bit.

Darren smiled a little and looked down as if he suddenly had a secret to tell.

"There's a reason Steve used to keep me so close," Darren said. "I've had a few weeks to figure all that out."

"I can not promise you that Gavner will not go after him," Crepsley said.

"Gavner killing him would probably be the best for me," Darren said. "But he should really leave it all alone. You should take him and Arra and the nice old guy and just forget all about us."

"That sounds like a decent plan."

"Keep the blanket," Darren said and stood, grabbing his pack. "Bye, Mr. Crepsley."

"Good-bye Darren. Even in death may you be triumphant."

Darren thought the saying was nice and perhaps a little scary since he didn't actually _want _to die. He figured it was vampire thing. The other three weren't around when he stepped out. He took a deep breath and he felt so much better. He hoped this was the end to vampires in this town. There was no telling if Crepsley could control Gavner but he hoped he could.

"Reynolds watch over him," he whispered hoping at least one of his ancestors would hear him. After everything he'd done to that man the least he could do was make sure that the dead in his family's crypt would keep him from joining them. It was a bit of a sappy thought but it was nice.


	2. Green Sky

He had been gone for a year and that was a very short time for a vampire. The burns had healed for the most part and he had returned to the Cirque du Freak and his routine as if nothing had even happened. It almost did not seem right considering everything that had been done to him and everything he had been willing to do to a child. He thought about Darren and his friends quite often.

It was extremely difficult for a human to get that close to killing him. He had been a trained General after all. He had almost been a Prince. But he had known that Darren was something different since the morning he had woken up to find Madam Octa gone and a shoddy blackmail attempt in her place. Even as he sat in his trailer in the dead of night he could not help but turn his thoughts toward Darren. Had Larten been able to blood him, the boy would have been unstoppable. He would have been a prodigy, far surpassing Larten, and maybe even the greatest of the vampire legends.

These thoughts of grandeur and glory had been with him since he had been able to hobble out of the crypt he had taken refuge in. Gavner and Arra had been insistent on hunting down the little humans and killing them. It was in their right to do so after what had happened on the field but Larten had eventually convinced them to go home to Vampire Mountain. He did not want Darren dead and he was willing to trust him enough to handle his own people.

Their story had made it back into the halls of Vampire Mountain, just like all of these kinds of stories did. Larten had been wholly unaware of Darren's rather sudden fame until a group of passing Cubs had asked him about it. He had sent them away with several harsh words about humans and privacy. Despite Larten's lack of physical presence among the Vampire Clan rumors of a true prodigy sprang up. The closest thing either Clan had ever had to a true prodigy had been Perta Vin-Grahl and the war had stolen any chance he could have had to prove such a claim.

Larten had seen Darren look certain death in the eye and barely flinch. When he had needed something from him, Darren had simply took it but when the boundaries had been overstepped Darren had shown compassion and mercy when most would have left Larten to die in the grass under that faux sunlight. Whether the boy was a true prodigy Larten could not say. All he knew was that the boy was an interesting thing and that was that.

But thoughts of Darren plagued him so much that Larten could not stay away. It was like a disease and just as the year ended he found himself back in that town, looking for that same boy. It didn't take him long to realize, however, that Darren was gone.

00000

The home that Darren had grown up in was empty. It had not been sold and when he searched it he found that a quite a bit of the family's possessions were still there. They had left in a hurry and it didn't look as if the family was coming back anytime soon. The home was small but it was by no means uncomfortable.

Framed pictures were still on the wall and he wiped off a layer of dust to reveal Darren and a small girl hugging each other and smiling widely. Putting the picture down, he moved into the living room. Some of the furniture had been dislodged as if there had been a fight but Larten could not see any blood. What had happened?

He decided to go look for Darren's room. Surely there would be some sort of clue as to what had happened to the boy and his family? Had they been killed? Unlikely. It simply looked as if they had fled from some unknown threat. Could this have anything to do with what happened over a year ago? He did not think so. Darren had been adamant that he could handle the humans of this town and Larten had seen no reason to think otherwise.

He was certain that something else was going on. Something he had not seen coming.

00000

Larten stayed in that town but he did not find anything for over a week. He was starting to believe that Darren had actually left town and began questioning the locals. He claimed to be an old family friend passing through the area and looking to reconnect. People were helpful, as they usually were in such situations, and told him that the Shans had indeed left abruptly.

"Why?" he asked a gossipy woman behind the counter of a gas station convenience store.

"Dunno for sure," she said with a shrug. "But I heard that they were on the run from something or other. They think the father, Dermot, got in too deep with the mob on one of his contracting jobs. There was a missing persons report and everything. Whole town's been a buzz."

"Thank you," Larten replied, troubled. For some reason he was doubting the involvement of the mob in this particular disappearance. He went back to the empty house and made camp in the attic. He wanted to be here in case someone came back. He wanted to know what had happened to the ever elusive Darren Shan.

He searched for the next month or so. He had even managed to get a police officer to answer some of his questions, this time posing as a cousin. The officer could not tell him much but it was enough for Larten to believe that Darren was probably in real trouble.

"They just up and disappeared," the officer said. "Didn't tell anyone, no one saw them leave, and the house had evidence of a disturbance."

"Do you believe they are dead?" the vampire asked. The officer shook his head then stopped to reconsider and shrugged.

"Don't know, could be. Maybe one of 'em is still out there, too scared to come back? Maybe they'll find them in the backyard in twenty years? No telling. The trail went cold."

Larten didn't appreciate the lack of respect the officer gave the case and thought maybe it was this man's fault the trail had indeed gone cold. Regardless, the ponderings troubled him even further. Not for the first time he wished he could read. It would have made investigating much easier.

But the vampire did have somewhere he could start looking.

00000

It took a mere two hours to locate the boy that had tried to kill him in cold-blooded revenge. Steve had grown a little over the last year and the sight of him made Larten's shoulder ache from its old bullet wound. His body had clearly not forgotten what it had endured on that field.

Steve was an utter delinquent. Following him through the streets, Larten saw him commit several acts of vandalism and he drifted from place to place looking for a good time. He remembered when he had been little more than this boy was now but he liked to think that he had not been so cruel. He had a suspicion he had been but he could not remember much from that time of his life to begin with.

Finally, an hour before sunrise Steve began his journey home. Larten spared a moment to wonder if he was in school anymore, then decided it hardly mattered. The vampire followed Steve back to his home and slipped into the boy's bedroom as Steve let himself in through the front door.

Picking up a book from the desk Larten sat on the end of the bed and flipped through it as if visiting the teenager that almost killed you was a common occurrence. He was more than a little disconcerted to find the portrait of himself and Alicia in the last few chapters of the book. This was the infamous portrait that had put Steve onto him in the first place. He knew that portrait had been a bad idea.

Steve opened the door and was on guard immediately. Larten was rather impressed considering the boy was nowhere near sober.

"Hello, Steve," he greeted.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" he asked.

"You did not expect me to survive my injuries, did you?" Larten asked calmly. He watched the boy's hands very closely. He had been tricked by guns and lights before. He did not want to give Steve the chance to use either against him again.

"I knew you had," he said. "Darren was clear about that."

"So he did tell you."

"Of course," the boy snapped. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for Darren but he seems to have misplaced himself."

"That was months ago," Steve told him. "What do you want with Darren?"

"That is between myself and Darren," Larten told him sternly, closing the book and tossing it on the bed beside him. "Do you know what happened to the family?"

"No." Larten looked at him disbelievingly.

"Are you sure?" he asked. He had known that Steve and Darren would likely never be friends again but he was certain that they would have kept close tabs on each other. Steve likely knew more about the Shan family's disappearance than the policeman had.

"Look, man," he said clearly uncomfortable with the situation. It was one thing to meet a vampire head on when he had stacked the deck in his favor. This meeting had not been on Steve's terms and he knew he was at Larten's mercy. "I don't know where they went."

"Well then, what can you tell me about why they left?"

"You left a lot loose ends," Steve said cryptically.

"Meaning?" Larten pressed.

"_Meaning_," Steve sneered, "you weren't the only creepy crawly to come through the town and after meeting you Darren couldn't just leave it alone."

"Who came?"

"Some monster," Steve said.

"Describe it."

"I never saw it," the boy said. "But it killed a bunch of people. We thought it was a vampire at first but the _way_ it was killing didn't seem right."

"How so?" Larten asked, hanging onto every word. Now that Steve was talking freely, he did not want to miss anything.

"Kids just started disappearing," he said.

"Then how do you know they are dead?"

"They found, uh, _bits_ of one of them. Like he had been eaten or something."

"How many?"

"Twelve," Steve said.

"And they were all children?"

"Yeah," the boy whispered. "Darren was convinced that he was going to be the thirteenth. He took his family and left."

"Why did he think that?"

"He said there was some sort of mark. All the victims were marked before they disappeared."

"What kind of mark?" Larten asked slowly suspecting where this conversation was about to go and dearly wishing that it wasn't.

"Scratches. Three of them. On the left cheek."

The vampire left after that. He had no desire to tell Steve about what had come to his town. He was not entirely certain that Steve would not seek to become one and Larten knew that would only end in death and blood. However, he had seen the mark the boy had spoke of before. Only once had he seen them on a living person and he had failed to save her.

A vampaneze had come to town. And apparently he had an appetite for children.

00000

Larten spent months in Darren's hometown and he spent most of that time taking night classes to learn how to read. The time had come when being illiterate meant that lives were at stake. After speaking with Steve, he had returned to Darren's room and began searching with a renewed fervor. Finally, he had found the boy's journals. He had flipped through them quickly hoping there would be _something_ he could recognize.

He was able to recognize basic words-things he had learned from simply living so long but he could not make any sense of anything else. But Darren had managed to make a few drawings in one of the journals. Three marks on the cheek of a child he didn't recognize and then a crude drawing of a monstrous looking man that he had colored purple. The boy had clearly stuck his nose where it did not belong and Larten knew he had to find him.

So he had taken the seven leather journals to his camp in the attic and that next night had found someone who would teach him to read. It had been surprisingly easy and Larten spent several hours every night in the local high school with others who had been unable to read either. He had been surprised to see how many people slipped through the cracks in the modern day country.

As he learned he slowly picked his way through the boy's journals. Darren had a knack for detail and Larten found himself being able to follow the events surrounding the boy's life quite easily. The first journal had been from when he was younger and encompassed several years of simple childish concerns and adventures. As he had grown older and his world had darkened, Darren had begun to chronicle everything in much more detail and care.

Larten read the story of his confrontation with Darren and his friends which had put an interesting perspective on his own memory of the event. That particular time in his life had taken up a journal of its own. Three of the journals were research on vampires and the last two were the ones that Larten was truly interested in.

He read them slowly knowing he had to understand every word correctly and that he could not ask anyone else for help should he misunderstand something. Darren had picked up on the vampaneze after it had claimed its second victim and had proceeded to try and figure out what it was. He had combed back through his vampire research trying to find a reference to such a creature when he had eventually found what he had needed from someone on the internet.

The vampire was familiar with the concept of the internet and what it could mean for the vampires but he had never had a reason to use it himself. Darren however had found someone who could tell him everything he would ever need to know about vampaneze and Larten was surprised to find that it all appeared to be correct information. It was all physical information: strengths, weaknesses, general temperaments. There was nothing about the history of the Clans. Regardless, the amount of information was staggering.

When had humans become so knowledgeable? Did the Generals know about this?

This internet person only went by the name of Vampet and Darren had not been able to track him down in real life. Larten considered trying to contact him but he wasn't entirely sure how to turn Darren's computer on and thus gave that up. It would only get more complicated from there.

However, his luck began to turn one night and everything fell perfectly into place.

00000

Larten had been hunting in the forest a few miles from the town when he had caught the very familiar and very pungent scent of an old friend. Abandoning the deer he had been lazily tracking he veered north hoping to catch up within an hour. When he caught sight of the vampire, Larten decided that the luck of the Vampire Gods was with him. Vancha March was exactly who he needed to see.

"You going to follow me all night or come say hello?" the green haired barbarian shouted. Larten smirked and stepped out of the shadows and into the clearing that Vancha had been using.

"Hello, Sire," he greeted politely and Vancha winced.

"Don't know how many times I'll have to tell you," he growled. "I _hate _that title." Larten laughed and crossed the distance between them to give Vancha a hug. It did not last long due to Vancha's smell.

"How have you been?" Larten asked. Vancha grinned like a rogue and then proceeded to tell about his last decade. Larten was treated to stories of battle and daring feats in what little wilderness remained of the world. The expansion of the human race had wiped away many of the lands that Vampires had once travelled through and while the world was shrinking Vancha did not seem to have much trouble finding adventure.

"And what about you?" Vancha asked. "I haven't seen you in decades. What are you doing these days?"

"I was with the Cirque for a while," Larten told him. "But I have been staying in the town not far from here."

"Why?" Vancha asked with a slight distaste to his tone. Vancha March was a man of the wilds and he despised any and all creature comforts. He did not judge others for their preferences but he also did not understand the attachment to things like beds or running water.

"There is a boy there," Larten hedged. "Or at least there was. He disappeared about a year ago and I am trying to find him."

"He's human?" Vancha questioned and Larten nodded. "Then what is he to you?"

"Honestly? I wish to blood him when the time is right. I believe he could be a prodigy."

"Ugh," Vancha groaned. "Is this the same boy that Gavner was telling people about. The Prodigy?"

"The Prodigy?" Larten echoed, amused. He had, of course, been aware that the vampires had become aware of Darren. He had not known that even Vancha March was hearing about him.

"Yes," Vancha said. "There's suddenly a big hoop-lah about a little prodigy boy. I've been hearing stories from the other Generals about how he could be the next Perta Vin Grahl. I didn't take them seriously though. You know how much vampires love stories."

Larten nodded. He knew certainly well how much the Vampire Clan could make something out of nothing. If there was one thing the vampires loved, it was fantastical stories. And if Gavner had indeed told someone about what had happened between them and Darren it was only a matter of a time before the entire clan knew. He wondered how Darren would react to the entire Vampire Clan knowing he existed. He doubted the boy would take it in stride.

"Darren is talented," Larten replied. "Given the proper training he could be one of the best we have ever seen."

"Maybe," Vancha consented knowing that Larten would know better than him on this topic. "But back up to the part about him being missing."

Larten launched into the whole story of how he had come back to the town to look for Darren and instead had found that he and his entire family were on the run from what appeared to be a mad vampaneze. Vancha was quite surprised about what he was being told.

"Twelve children?" he asked, horrified. Vampires did not interfere with the feeding choices of the vampaneze. However, this time there appeared to be a significant reason to interfere. Killing a human child was taboo even among the Vampaneze. There was no honor in it because there was no fair chance to the child. Most vampaneze liked their prey to fight.

"Yes, and Darren thought he was next."

"Where are the journals now?"

"At his home," Larten told him. "I am still trying to pick my way through the last one. Darren's writing became sporadic in the end. He did not seem to be able to keep a single line of thought for long. I believe he was scared."

"And why wouldn't he be? He had been marked for death."

"Will you help me with this Sire?" Larten asked tentatively. A situation such as this would have been more suited to someone like Mika or even Paris. But Vancha was the Prince that was there and Larten needed him.

"I don't know what I can do," he said honestly.

"I am not quite sure what I am doing either," the orange haired man replied just as honestly. "But Darren saved my life when he had no reason to. He destroyed a life long friendship. That matters to me."

"Are you forgetting the part where it was his fault to begin with?"

"No I am not. And it was not his fault. He did not know what his friend was planning on doing and it is not right to hold the actions of someone else against him."

"No, I suppose not," Vancha replied. He took a moment to think and then nodded. "Fine. I'll stay."

00000

Vancha didn't like the thought of not sleeping in the woods but Larten had been able to convince him stay in Darren's home just as he was. It was necessary that they did not separate. Larten felt he was close to finishing Darren's journals and if they needed to leave immediately it would only make it harder if Vancha was miles away. So the green haired Prince had found himself a nice cold piece of attic floor and slept soundly through the following few days.

Larten couldn't bring himself to sleep much at all. His entire world had quickly become Darren's journals and the research he had done. It was extensive and hard to follow but the Vampire thought he was starting to piece everything together.

The missing boy had managed to rope the infamous Steve Leonard into helping him deal with this murderous monster and together the two of them had tentatively worked to end the murders in a way no one else could have. The local police handling the case had handed it off to a higher authority and the case agent had been circling around both boys as much as they had been circling around the vampaneze. Larten was beginning to think it might be a good idea to speak with this lawman. Darren had been convinced that he knew more than he was letting on.

When Larten made it to the last page of the final journal he found that it was only a few sentences long. And they were chilling sentences indeed.

_It's a cycle. Thirteen every 33 years. Need a Vampire._

The short sentences made him think. Its meaning was quite clear and very disturbing. The killings happened on a cycle of thirty-three years. Not an unusual occurrence for a vampaneze. If they found a hunting ground they liked they would always show there at some point or another. This cycle seemed to be fairly regular. With thirteen victims each cycle the number of dead children could easily be somewhere past a hundred. Was that what had sparked Darren's need to find a vampire? The fact that he could not fight this creature on his own. It was a possibility.

So where had Darren gone to find a vampire?

There was one thing Larten was certain of. If the boy needed to find a vampire he would start in the one place he had last seen a vampire. The Cirque du Freak.

00000

Larten and Vancha made quick work of setting out on the road the following night. Larten had taken the final two journals as they were the most relevant and tucked them securely into the folds of his blood red cloak. The Cirque was a long ways off and considering the urgency of their travels they decided to flit for some of it.

A few days later, the camp came into view and Larten was pleased to see it once more. Everything was just as he had left it months ago except for the decidedly horrible car that was parked in a ragtag fashion outside of what was normally Larten's trailer. He led Vancha through the camp, the late hour making it a short walk with no interruptions from tired workers and performers.

As they got closer Larten could hear the distinct sound of someone coughing very hard from deep within their chest. Larten winced at the painful sound.

"Mom, please," a boy pleaded. "You have to snap out of it. Annie needs you. _I_ need you."

Vancha opened the door before the boy could say anymore and Larten came face-to-face with Darren Shan once more. He had grown and matured. He was no longer a boy just reaching his stride in puberty. He was nearing manhood and it showed. There was a scar on his face that had not been there before and there was a quiver of arrows that definitely had not been there before. There was a bow resting at his booted feet. He was kneeling in front of woman grasping her hand tightly. The coughing noises were coming from a small cot where a young girl rested.

Larten could not tell if she was sleeping or unconscious, the sweat on her brow so profuse that it was clear she was running a dangerously high fever.

"What is the matter with her?" Larten asked, nodding at the girl. Darren just stared at him. He looked as if he was deciding between hugging Larten or shooting him. He settled on yelling.

"Where have you been?" he shouted. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"I was at your home," Larten told him.

"What, are you stalking me now?" Darren snapped. Larten raised his eyebrows.

"You came looking for me," he reminded the boy. Darren huffed in annoyance and finally stood. He stepped down from the trailer and shut the door tightly behind him.

"If you were in my town then you probably know about what happened."

"A vampaneze," Vancha responded, entering the conversation.

"Yeah," Darren nodded. "Real nasty guy too. Not someone you want to run into the dark."

"Did he come for you?" Larten asked.

"Yes. He broke into the house."

"How did you get away?" Vancha asked.

"Dad stayed behind," he said quietly crossing his arms tightly over the ratty flannel he was wearing. Larten understood quite easily what had happened. Darren's father had sacrificed himself in order for his family to escape.

"And what is wrong with your mother?" Larten asked quietly, knowing it was a very intrusive yet still relevant question. Darren snorted and shook his head.

"Checked out," he responded shortly. "I guess being attacked by a giant purple monster was too much for her. After all, we lived in suburbia. The most dangerous thing there was Ms. Parker's biting Yorkie."

Vancha snorted but wisely did not respond. There was so much in Darren's sentence that the wild Prince could have used to pick at. Larten was thankful that the man seemed to have some sense of tact though this was the first time he had ever seen it.

"And your sister?" Larten guessing the relationship between Darren and the girl.

"Flu," he said. "She's not getting better."

Larten dropped a shoulder in order to let the strap of his bag slide off. He set the bag carefully on the ground and dug around until he found the exact vial he was looking for. It was a putrid orange; a gift from a friend. He handed it to Darren who simply stared at it having no clue what to do with it.

"What is this?" he asked.

"A remedy," Larten said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Darren gave him an annoyed look. "It is like chicken soup but magical. It will help." Darren smiled a little at the reference to his rather incompetent effort to bring peace between them.

"Magical chicken soup," he said. "Got it."

Grasping the vial tightly he went back inside the trailer, shutting the door on the two vampires.

Vancha huffed. "He could have said thank you."

"It was not necessary," Larten told him. "It will never be necessary."

"Okay," Vancha said slowly in lieu of coming up with anything else to say. "What did you two mean? About the chicken soup?"

Larten just smiled and turned away. He needed to talk to Mr. Tall.

00000

"Is there a reason that you did not communicate with me when Darren arrived?" he asked. Mr. Tall was sitting in his favorite chair looking at Larten over steepled fingers. He and Larten had bonded a long time ago and could communicate telepathically. It was only short sentences but it was sufficient enough that Mr. Tall would have been able to let Larten know that Darren and his family had arrived at the Cirque.

Especially since he had known that Larten had left specifically to find the boy again. So why had he kept the boy's location from Larten?

"I cannot get involved," Mr. Tall replied.

"Involved with what?" Vancha asked, his eyebrows crinkling with suspicion. There was something strange happening with Mr. Tall and even Vancha was picking up on it.

"I _cannot_ get involved," Mr. Tall repeated.

"Why not?" Larten asked hoping that if he asked the right question Mr. Tall would be able to tell him _something_. Mr. Tall could see the future and Larten had enough experience with people like him to know that when it came to certain people, at certain times he had to be very guarded about what he said.

"This boy's story has only just begun," Mr. Tall told him. "I _cannot_ get involved."

"No involvement," Vancha said, at wits end. "Got it."

Mr. Tall ignored him for the most part giving Larten a very piercing look. It was the kind of look that made Larten believe that Mr. Tall was trying to tell him something important without telling him anything at all.

"It is Destiny, is it not?" Larten asked, guessing as to why Mr. Tall was so determined to remain close-lipped and not involved. The Cirque owner did not blink, or nod, or shake his head. He did not give even a twitch of an eyelid but Larten knew he had guessed right. There was only one being in the entire universe that could make Mr. Tall go completely silent on a subject.

"Desmond Tiny?" Vancha asked, shooting a concerned and questioning look at Larten's back. "What could he possibly have to do with this?"

"Everything," Larten replied and turned around sharply to march out of the tent and back to the trailer. Vancha hurried behind to keep up.

"Larten!" he shouted forcefully, grabbing the other vampire's arm and forcing him to stop and turn around to look at him. "Why would Desmond Tiny be interested in this boy?"

"Because Darren has potential," Larten replied. "You heard the stories."

"Yes, _stories_," Vancha emphasized. "I don't know Tall very well but I could tell that talking about Darren freaked him out. Why? What do you know that nobody else seems to?"

Larten sagged in the Prince's grasp.

"Nothing really," he said truthfully. "But think about it. Darren met and fought a vampire and a vampaneze less than a year apart. How often does something like that happen?"

"Never," Vancha said. "Never for someone who doesn't go looking for it."

"So why is it happening now?"

"You think Tiny is _making _this happen to this boy?"

"I think it is entirely possible that Desmond is using the boy as a pawn for something else. Something worse."

"Like what?"

"You would have to ask him."

They stared at each in a strained silence. Vancha had never liked Mr. Tiny and anytime he appeared, even just in name, the Prince would become tense. However, Tiny was not their only problem at the moment.

"Darren has been marked for death by a vampaneze," Larten reminded him. "And a particularly vicious one at that."

"You think he's still a target?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, then," came a new voice and both vampires turned sharply to find Darren only a few feet away. His bow was in one hand and a folded map was in another. "We better get to work."

Larten stared at him. This boy was so different from the boy he had left behind nearly two years ago. The boy from the graveyard had been frightened, but brave nonetheless, and he had been human enough to know that he had done something very wrong and had sought to fix the problem. Even if it just meant giving a burned vampire with very right to strike him dead a blanket and a can of cold chicken soup.

But now he had a weapon in his hand and was looking to take the fight to the thing that had stalked him, his family, and the people of his town. Not for the first time did Larten think the boy would make a superb vampire.

00000

Darren had spread the map on the hood of the car and all three of them leaned over it, Darren with the most intent. There were twelve red dots that marked specific locations. But there were also twelve green marks as well. Larten had a feeling he knew what these meant.

"Are these the vampaneze victims?" he asked, pointing at one of the dots.

"Sort of," Darren told him. "The bodies haven't all been found, if there's anything left to find."

"Then what do these mean?" Vancha asked.

"The red marks are where the twelve victims disappeared and the green marks are where the victims lived."

"None of them were taken from their homes?" Larten asked, curious. Darren shook his head. "Then why-?"

"Did he come after me in my home?" Darren finished giving them both a curious look. "That is the question of the year."

"Vampaneze don't just break their hunting pattern for no reason," Vancha replied. "They're as much creatures of habit as they are creatures of blood."

"Who are you?" Darren asked, suddenly realizing that he didn't know who Vancha was or even know his name.

"I'm Vancha March, Vampire Prince."

"You people have royalty?" Darren asked sardonically.

"Not in the way you are thinking," Larten replied distractedly. "Darren, what are the question marks for?" He pointed to the little black punctuation marks that Darren had scribbled over several buildings.

"Possible locations that a vampaneze might hide in," Darren replied. "They're all abandoned, with little traffic from local kids, and most of them have basements or opaque windows that let in very little sunlight. None of them have security guards and quite a few of them have fences that are easy to jump for a vampire or vampaneze."

"What about graveyards?" Larten asked. Vancha was watching them, enraptured by what he was seeing. It was very rare to find a human that could track a vampaneze's movements with such accuracy and he was starting to think that Darren could one day be a very good vampire hunter.

"I sweeped through all the graveyards," Darren replied. "None of the locks on any of the crypts or tombs was broken. The few tombs that were open didn't have any kind of disturbance. He wasn't staying there. He has to be in one of the these locations."

"So which one?" Vancha asked.

Darren held up a finger and went to the back of the car. He popped open the trunk and searched around for something. When he came back they saw that it was a box filled with files. Darren brought them to the front, set the box on the ground, and then began flipping through the files until he found the one he wanted.

He handed it to Larten.

"Those are photos of all the locations I pegged as possibilities," he said. "Notice anything?"

Larten peered at each one carefully and within a few minutes he found the picture that Darren had wanted him to find. A photo of what looked like an abandoned office building. Three stories, nondescript, and in need of upkeep. But through the glass of the front door was an extremely blurry shape. It was the type of blur that a human would mistake as a camera flaw or even a ghost. But Larten knew better. He handed the photo to Vancha.

"Vampaneze," he said and Darren nodded, pleased that they had confirmed what he had figured out. Vancha looked sharply at Darren with an assessing look. "Did you do all of this yourself?"

"No," Darren replied.

"Did Steve help you?" Larten asked. Darren gave him a mean look. Apparently Steve was a touchy subject, especially when the conversation was with the man Steve had tried to murder in front of Darren.

"Yes, actually, he did. But only with the photos."

"What's in all the other files?" Vancha asked, nodding at the box at Darren's feet.

"Those are files about the victims going back 150 years when he first appeared to come to town. Thirteen victims every thirty-three years."

"What good is this going to do us?" Vancha asked. "You haven't been in town for nearly a year. He killed your father, that could be his thirteenth victim."

"No," Darren said. "He killed Dad because he threatened his survival. He didn't drink any blood."

"You're sure?" Vancha pressed.

"Of course," Darren said. "I'm the one who went back to bury him. Except for the blood coming out of his head wound, it was all still in his body. He only takes kids. He's still waiting to take me."

"How do you know? For certain?" Larten asked.

"Because I have friends keeping a very distant eye on him," Darren replied. "He's still in town waiting for me to come back."

"Why would he think you would come back?" Larten asked although he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

"Revenge?" Darren shrugged. "To finish what I started. There are plenty of reasons to go back."

"But will you?" Vancha asked curious.

"Of course," Darren replied as if it the answer should have been obvious from the very beginning. "Just not without back up."

"Back up?" Larten asked.

"Why else would I track down the Cirque? It wasn't for the spider." Darren looked up at the sky which meant that he missed the annoyed look Larten gave him. "It's too close to dawn to start out now so we'll have to leave tomorrow night."

"We can't interfere," Vancha said. Darren looked at him sharply.

"What?" he asked.

"It's against the treaty for the vampires and vampaneze to interfere with each other. We can't interfere. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Darren asked incredulous. "People are dying. Innocent kids."

"We can't interfere."

"You can not," Larten said. "But there is something that I can do."

"Larten," Vancha warned.

"I can take you back to town. To get your things from the house." Darren and Vancha both blinked at him as if he had lost his mind. Until Vancha finally had a look of understanding dawn on his face. Darren still didn't understand.

"Larten," the Prince said. "You have to be very careful. If _anyone_ finds out that you were ever in that town, well, you know what it means."

"What does it mean?" Darren asked. Nobody answered.

"I understand," Larten replied. Vancha nodded. Then he nodded at Darren before he turned and ran. By the time he reached the edge of the Cirque he had reached a speed where he could flit. And then he was gone.

"What the hell?" Darren snapped.

"We are on our own," Larten told.

"Yeah, that much is obvious," Darren replied snarkily. "Why can't a vampire get involved?"

Larten gave him a brief explanation of the war between the vampires and the vampaneze and the resulting treaty of peace. He stressed that the peace was tenuous and if a Prince was caught meddling in the affairs of a vampaneze it could mean war.

"However," Larten replied. "There is nothing wrong with a vampire of common standing challenging a vampaneze to a duel."

"A duel?" Darren asked, looking as if he was desperately choking back laughter. Larten did not understand what was so funny.

"Yes, a duel," he replied.

"What are you cowboys? Who duels anymore?"

"Vampires and vampaneze duel all the time, Darren."

"I would be more comfortable with a plan that didn't have fifty-fifty odds, Mr. Crepsley."

"There is a proper way to handle these things," Larten told him. "You came here to ask for my help. This is the only help I can give you. A simple duel does not violate the treaty. No one can know that you sought me out to fight him. It would be considered interference and could start a war. That was why Vancha left."

Darren watched him closely and Larten could plainly see the thoughts going through his head playing out on his face. He was trying to decide if he could trust Larten to do what needed to be done. If Larten challenged this vampaneze and lost there was little chance that Darren would be able to take down the vampaneze on his own. Darren would die. And in thirty-one years when the cycle started over again, another thirteen children would die as well.

"Can you win?" he asked, the stress of the situation heavy on his voice.

"Yes."

"Do you, uh, duel often?" the boy asked, still trying not to laugh at the word duel. Although he did manage a blatant eyeroll.

"Yes."

"Fine," Darren finally relented. "Um, sorry but we sort of took over your trailer." It took Larten a moment to catch up with the rapid subject change.

"I will meet you back here when the sun goes back down. Here." He took the journals out of his red cloak and handed them to Darren who looked surprised.

"Why do you have these?"

"I used them to find you," Larten replied.

"It took you that long to get through two journals? What were you doing, reading a word a day?" Darren asked. He did not say it meanly, at least Larten did not think he was trying to be antagonistic. He was simply trying to piece together why it had taken Larten eight months to come back to the Cirque.

"I had to learn how to read first," Larten told him and Darren suddenly smiled brightly.

"Ah, Mr. Crepsley," he cooed. "Did you learn how to read for me?"

"No," Larten snapped. "I learned how to read because I wanted to."

"Uh huh," Darren said, still smiling which made Larten suddenly very uncomfortable. The knowing look the boy was giving him did not help.

"I will see you in twelve hours," he said stiffly and stalked off to the woods. He ignored Darren's laugher and the sound of the trailer door opening and closing.

00000

Next Chapter: Darren and Larten confront the vampaneze.


End file.
